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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347083">Come On, Come On, Move A Little Closer</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_stars/pseuds/Lost_in_stars'>Lost_in_stars</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Costume Closets, Darkness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Pining, Trapped In A Closet, basically Steven and Andrew take matters into their own hands, i know im a piece of shit let me LIVE, listen please don't come for me in the comments about writing about real people, near panic attacks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 01:15:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_in_stars/pseuds/Lost_in_stars</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“He’s just so pretty, you know?” Shane said mournfully. “Look at him. Look at him, Steven!”</p><p>“Oh yeah,” Steven replied as Ryan nearly fell off the stage. “He’s a real catch.”</p><p>“You don’t understand!” Shane grumbled. “I’m in love with him, Steven.”</p><p>Steven inhaled his drink and looked up, coughing. “You what?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Andrew Ilnyckyj/Steven Lim, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>136</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Come On, Come On, Move A Little Closer</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Okay, so I'm going to start this off by saying: Please don't come for me in the comments. These two just happen to inspire me to write, okay? And yeah, I ship em. Let me live. </p><p>Anyway. Uh, enjoy this bullshit?</p><p>(also please forgive me if there's any grammar/spelling mistakes. i have no excuses apart from my exhaustion)</p><p>-Kai</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Shane isn’t claustrophobic, but he’ll admit he does try to get out of the archived costumes closet as quickly as possible. There are several reasons why, but the most prominent one is that Shane isn’t exactly a big fan of the sweaty smells of the unwashed and abandoned costumes. Besides, the light doesn’t work, so if the door closes he’s trapped in darkness. Not that Shane isn’t used to that – he hunts <em>ghosts</em> for a living, for fucks sake – but that, plus the horrible smell, plus Shane’s long noodle limbs being unable to properly move around, the archived costumes closet isn’t exactly at the top of his list of places Shane wants to spend his time.</p><p> </p><p>Unfortunately, Shane didn’t exactly have a choice in the matter. Not only is Shane stuck in the costume closet (not like <em>that</em>, thank you very <em>much</em>), he’s got Ryan with him. And whilst Ryan might be small, his personality is enough to fill the entire Buzzfeed building, and then some.</p><p> </p><p>How did Shane get in this situation? Well, he can blame his two friends, Steven Lim and Andrew Ilnyckyj, and their inability to keep their noses out of Shane’s business.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” Ryan says, barely visible in the darkness. “I think I’m going to have a panic attack.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>It started two weeks ago, when Shane accidentally confessed to Steven during karaoke night that he was in love with Ryan. He was far past counting how many shots he had had, and was nursing a margarita. Steven was sitting next to Shane, holding his own drink and dressed in a shirt that could be comparable to a handkerchief. He admitted he had worn it to impress Andrew, and, well. Andrew had seemed thoroughly impressed. So impressed, in fact, that he dragged Steven into the bathroom minutes beforehand and they both emerged with ruffled hair. Shane doesn’t want to think about it.</p><p> </p><p>Shane, however, was not dressed up at all. He was wearing a pair of loose jeans and a beige sweater that he had stolen from an ex boyfriend, so it was a little small on him. The only reason he was even out of his home tonight (instead of having a night in, curled up on the couch and getting stoned) was because of one Ryan Bergara, who slammed open the door to Shane’s apartment three hours beforehand. “Alright, big guy,” Ryan had said, already a little tipsy. “We’re going out. We’re doing karaoke night. Get dressed.” And Shane, poor, infatuated Shane, had agreed. Hence why he was sitting at the bar, wasted as fuck, and watching as Ryan badly sang <em>Dancing Queen</em>.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s just so pretty, you know?” Shane said mournfully. “Look at him. Look at him, Steven!”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah,” Steven replied as Ryan nearly fell off the stage. “He’s a real catch.”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t understand!” Shane grumbled. “I’m in <em>love </em>with him, Steven.”</p><p> </p><p>Steven inhaled his drink and looked up, coughing. “You <em>what</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m in love with him,” Shane repeated. He pressed his forehead against the cold, sticky wood bench of the bar. “Jesus, I’m so in love with Ryan.”</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“You’re not going to have a panic attack,” Shane answers, his ears still ringing with the threatening <em>slam </em>of the door that happened a minute ago, engulfing them in darkness. Ryan and Shane had been in here to look for a pirate costume for Steven and Andrew, but it’s only occurring to Shane now, as Ryan hyperventilates beside him, that they definitely didn’t need a costume in the first place. <em>Those sneaky bastards</em>, Shane thinks, furiously rattling the door handle. “Guys!” He shouts, and Ryan slams his hand against the door, making a loud banging sound echo through the closet. “Andrew, Steven, <em>open this door</em>! This isn’t <em>funny</em>!”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not a joke!” Steven’s voice is muffled by the door between them, but even an idiot can tell that, despite what he just said, he seems to think this isn’t just a joke, but the most <em>hilarious </em>joke of all time. If it were anyone else but Shane, maybe he would find it a little humorous, but it is Shane. And there is nothing funny about listening to the man he loves hyperventilating while they’re both locked in a closet that <em>stinks </em>of sweat and sex (probably from the interns hooking up with each other in here).</p><p> </p><p>“Let us <em>out</em>!” Ryan shouts, banging on the door again. His movements are jerky, and when Steven bangs back, Ryan stumbles backwards into Shane’s chest, as if Steven had scared him. “Fucking come on, guys,” Ryan whines, kicking the door. His back feels warm against Shane, and Shane wonders briefly if Ryan can hear the way his heartbeat picks up and thumps against Shane’s chest like it wants to escape. Which it does. Which Shane does. He wants to get out of this fucking closet with all his heart, especially with Ryan pressed up against him. Shane doesn’t know where to put his hands, and is about settle for Ryan’s hips when Ryan kicks the door again. This makes Shane take two steps backwards, and his back hits a shelf. It wobbles dangerously, and Shane puts his hand up to steady it. “Steven! Andrew! Come on, please?” Ryan calls, sounding so <em>scared </em>that even Shane, who usually laughs at Ryan’s fear, feels his heart crack a little in pity.</p><p> </p><p>“Have fun,” Andrew’s monotone voice says. There’s a beeping sound, and then, “We’ll let you out in an hour. Timer is on. Talk out your issues.”</p><p> </p><p>Their footsteps disappear, and Ryan slams his shoulder against the door twice before Shane manages to get out of the brain funk he’s stuck in. Shane steps forward, placing his wrist between Ryan and the door without thinking. When Ryan tries to hit the door again, both of them cry out. “Ow, ow, <em>fuck</em>,” Shane hisses, pulling back and clutching his arm. Ryan, shocked, seems to immediately forget the panic attack he’s driving himself into, and grabs Shane’s shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Why did you do that?” He scolds, but it sounds worried instead of angry. “Oh my god, I’m<em> so</em> sorry. Are you okay? Here, let me see.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can’t see anything,” Shane points out, hiding his wrist behind his back protectively. It throbs painfully.</p><p> </p><p>“Shane, for fucks sake!” Ryan lunges forward, colliding heavily with Shane’s chest. He grabs Shane’s shoulder, pulls his wrist out from behind his back, and is about to apparently fix it up like a fucking miracle worker when Shane stumbles backwards, tripping over his own feet. They both crash into the shelf, causing a box of costumes to come tumbling down and landing on top of them. The box hits Shane’s head and he falls down, clutching his crown and swearing.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>!” Shane whines, sprawled ungracefully on the floor while Ryan stands over him. If he wasn’t in horrible pain right now, he’d probably register the fact that Ryan’s dick is somewhere right in front of his nose.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Ryan apologises, stepping back and softly bumping into the door. “Here, let me just–” There’s a lot more shuffling, and then a small pinprick of light is being shone in Shane’s face. He blinks, and a smile starts to spread on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em>Ryan</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“What?” Ryan snaps defensively.</p><p> </p><p>“You carry a <em>torch</em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“I– Shut up! It’s useful.”</p><p> </p><p>“More useful than a phone?” Shane mutters, clambering up off the floor. Once he’s standing steadily, Ryan moves forward and yanks Shane’s sleeve up. He studies Shane’s arm so seriously that Shane has to hold back a wheeze. “Look, I’m fine,” Shane says. “You don’t need to worry. I’m okay. We’re okay.” It comes out a lot softer than intended to, and makes Shane’s cheek heat up the moment the words leave his mouth, but Ryan lets out a sad little hum. He carefully rolls Shane’s sleeve back down, and Shane feels tingles up his spine as Ryan’s hand grazes his <em>oh so slightly</em>. His fingers shake. There’s a beat of silence, and then. Ryan tangles their fingers together.</p><p> </p><p>“We’re okay,” Ryan agrees quietly. He moves forward, pressing his head against Shane’s shoulder. It’s a parody of a hug, but it sends Shane’s heartbeat crazy. He wonders, a little hysterically, if Ryan can hear the way his heart slams against his chest, can feel the way Shane has to hold back the urge to reach his free hand up and knot his fingers in Ryan’s chocolate curls.</p><p> </p><p>They’ve hugged before, of course. <em>Bro hugs</em>, because Ryan is a frat boy and Shane is a tall, awkward noodle man. There’s even been times when they’ve fallen asleep together on air planes or long car rides, and woken up resting against each other, both using the other as pillows.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a friend thing. <em>It’s what friends do</em>.</p><p> </p><p>This, though.</p><p> </p><p>This isn’t something that they’ve ever done.</p><p> </p><p>His hands are probably sweaty, and he’s probably stiff, and <em>oh god what if Ryan knows Shane’s feelings? </em>He wants to pull away, pretend this never happened, but at the same time, Shane just wants time to stop in this moment. They’re dancing on the very edge of the line called friendship, twirling dangerously close to <em>Lovers </em>territory.</p><p> </p><p>“Shane?” Ryan says, breaking the spell of silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Hm?” Shane replies, content to stay here forever, with Ryan’s hand in his and Ryan’s curls tickling at his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>Ryan steps back and clears his throat, leaving Shane feeling horrible empty. He’s never been a touchy person, but that… That’s something that Shane wants a lot, now. He wants the intimate hug to play over and over again, like pressing loop on a song that gives you a nice, warm feeling inside. Ryan sets the flickering torch on a shelf. It casts a white light over one side of hiss face, leaving the other side in complete shadow. Shane can only image what he looks like.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m going to do something,” Ryan says, shifting uncomfortably. “And if you don’t like it, then. Uh. Feel free to push me away, or whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>He speaks casually, as if what he’s about to do means nothing, but it clearly means <em>something </em>when Ryan steps forward, tugs Shane downwards by his collar (which is definitely something Shane wants to explore much more of now, because he likes <em>that </em>feeling), and presses his soft, soft lips against Shane’s.</p><p> </p><p>Shane’s brain sizzles and dies. He can’t think, can’t move. He just stands there dumbly, white noise playing in his head as Ryan kisses him.</p><p> </p><p>Seconds pass.</p><p> </p><p>Ryan moves away at the same time the torch battery dies, engulfing them in darkness. “Um,” Ryan says, and his voice is doing that thing it always does when he’s about to cry, and oh god, <em>Shane doesn’t want him to cry</em>.</p><p> </p><p>He leans down and captures Ryan’s lips in his own again, resulting in a little gasp of surprise. Shane pulls away, and Ryan follows, their noses bumping awkwardly. They giggle.</p><p> </p><p>“I really, really like you,” Shane whispers. The words feel like oxygen after so long after drowning, but somehow, it’s still not enough. He needs to say it, needs to say– “I’m in love with you.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a beat of silence, and for a moment Shane thinks he’s misread the situation, like an <em>idiot</em>. But:</p><p> </p><p>“Oh my god,” says Ryan. “I’m in love with you too, you fucking <em>idiot</em>.”</p><p> </p><p><em>Rude</em>, Shane thinks, and leans down to kiss him again.</p><p> </p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think it worked?” Steven asks, his legs strewn casually across Andrew’s lap. Andrew lets out a huff of laughter. They’ve been sitting outside the closet door for nearly half an hour, and either the Unsolved boys have given up on trying to escape, or they’ve found some other way to – <em>ahem</em> – entertain themselves.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I think it worked,” Andrew answers. He pats Steven’s leg. “We’ve done good, Stevie.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re basically, like, cupids or something.”</p><p> </p><p>Andrew laughs again, throwing Steven’s legs off his lap so he can crawl forward and press a kiss to Steven’s forehead. When he pulls away, Steven has turned a lovely shade of pink. “We’re great cupids,” Andrew says. “The best.”</p><p> </p><p>A loud moan erupts from the closet.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to leave?” Steven says, turning even pinker.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>They scramble away.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you liked it! </p><p>I'm in a real BFU thing rn, so if you want to see me reblog fifty thousand incorrect watcher quotes, then feel free to follow my tumblr: xxlost-in-starsxx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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